


All These Bridges Are Old Stone

by sequence_fairy



Category: Satan and Me (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:49:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: “Don’t stop,” he says, and there’s an odd kind of strain in his voice.





	All These Bridges Are Old Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Starting to sate my desire for wing!fic. Expect more where this came from.

The first time he pops out his wings, Natalie feels the flesh of her back rip in time, but she’s a little busy throwing herself off a bridge and then being boiled alive, so she doesn’t pay it much mind. 

It’s not until after a lot of other things - mostly she nearly dies a lot and then one, horrible time, she actually dies, and she’s not sure really what happened there - see: dead - but she realizes that she’s never actually seen his wings. The proper ones. Not the ones Hell gave him, but the ones he had before he Fell. 

She imagines (to herself because asking Lucifer about it seems like something that would go over like a lead balloon) that they might’ve looked something like MIchael’s - shimmering with their own light, and probably equal parts weapon and comfort. 

She wonders what it might feel like to stroke the feathers, to feel them shiver against her fingers - do angel wings shiver like a bird’s when you draw your finger down the leading edge? Natalie wants to know what it might feel like to have him draw the feathers down her skin, wonders if her skin would rise in goosebumps the way it does when she runs a nail down her arm. 

Opportunity comes in the strangest way. It’s hot, and muggy, and Natalie is lying in the kiddie pool, Lucifer hiding from the sun in the weak shade of the lone backyard tree. He’s more fidgety than usual, and Natalie watches him over the top of her sunglasses. 

“Ants in your pants?” she asks after a while, and Lucifer goes still. 

“No,” he answers, petulant. 

Natalie sits up in the pool. “What’s with the wiggling then?” 

“Ah,” Lucifer hedges, “nothing.”

“Oh, okay,” Natalie says, stung that he suddenly won’t share what’s bothering him. They’ve been doing so well at talking to each other, and now he’s clamming up again. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. It’s just – well, you looked uncomfortable!” 

Lucifer grimaces. He bunches his shoulders and releases them deliberately. 

“Lucifer,” Natalie says, getting out of the pool. She walks over to him, and leans down. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing Natalie,” he says, “go away. Find someone else to bother.” 

“Is your–” Natalie stops, swallows, bravely goes on; “is your back bothering you?”

Lucifer rears to his feet, knocking her back in his haste. Natalie lands hard on her back, all the breath going out of her in a whoosh. Lucifer looms over her. “Quit bugging me, kid, I’m in no mood.” 

He leaves then, shoulders rigid and spine straight. Natalie waits until he’s out of sight before picking herself up off the ground. 

He comes back late that night, after Natalie’s already in bed. She’s texted him a couple of times while he’s been gone, and while he answered her to tell her that he was fine, he’s been incommunicado otherwise. He climbs into her bedroom, through the window and drops his glamour before settling onto the beanbag chair. 

Natalie rolls over. “Lucifer?” 

“Who else?” He grumbles. “Go back to sleep, kid. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“No,” Natalie says, and leans up to turn on the light. 

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Lucifer asks, blinking in the sudden brilliance. 

“What’s wrong with you today? You’ve been meaner than usual and you’re obviously uncomfortable. Let me help you, Lucifer, please.” 

It’s the ‘please’ that undoes him, Natalie can see it. His shoulders droop and he closes his eyes. 

For a moment, nothing happens and then the fine hairs on Natalie’s arms stand on end. She looks down, and then the light bulb pops, plunging the room into darkness. Natalie stifles a scream. She feels Lucifer move. A bright light fills the room, and Natalie has to shade her eyes against the glare. 

The light dims after a moment, going from blinding to merely bright, and then continues to dim until Natalie is able to make out the outline of wings rising from Lucifer’s back. She feels her mouth drop open, and can do nothing to stifle the soft ‘oh’ that slips out. 

They’re beautiful, rising over his shoulders and trailing on the ground behind him. The feathers look like pristine snow, until he moves and Natalie watches, fascinated, as their iridescence sends rainbows skittering to all corners of her room. 

“Wow,” Natalie says, hushed. She wants to touch them, badly, but she doesn’t know if she’s allowed, so instead, she sits on her hands to keep herself from giving into temptation. 

Lucifer gives no sign of noticing Natalie’s unrest, and instead, swivels so his wings brush over her where she’s sitting on the floor. Natalie feels the brush of each feather over her skin, and she wants to melt into the floor at the pleasure of the touch. It feels like someone has opened her veins and dumped sunlight into them, and the spreading warmth makes her blood hum. 

“It’s just–” Lucifer pauses, and Natalie makes a concerted effort to lift her gaze from the feathers in her lap and she notices the problem immediately. 

“Oh,” she says, and Lucifer nods. 

“I can’t reach,” he says. “Normally, we’d do this for each other, but–” he doesn’t go on and Natalie doesn’t press him. Instead, she gently reaches for the feathers that are not lying smoothly and combs her fingers through them. Warmth pools in her gut, and she is half-ashamed and half-thrilled.

After a while, Lucifer makes a sound that turns all the shame in her gut into thrill. He cuts himself off, lifting his hand to his mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, lifting her hands, but Lucifer shakes his head. 

“Don’t stop,” he says, and there’s an odd kind of strain in his voice. 

“O-okay,” Natalie says, and goes back to preening. Lucifer shudders as she smoothes her hand down the length of his wing. “Is this alright?” Natalie asks. 

Lucifer nods. “Yeah,” he says, dreamily, letting his head hang forward. 

Natalie busies herself with running her fingers along every feather, watching the way their inner light plays across her hands. When she finishes with one wing, she goes to the other, rising up on her knees so she can reach the top-most feathers. 

Lucifer turns his head as she does, and they are nose to nose. His eyes are molten, and Natalie’s heart slams into her throat just as her stomach bottoms out. 

“You’ve no idea, do you?” Lucifer says, his voice like smoke. His hands clench and unclench in his lap in time to Natalie’s ministrations. 

“I–uh, I can stop?” Natalie asks. 

“No,” Lucifer says, vehement. And then; “I mean, it’s okay, you’re done now.” 

Natalie’s breath catches in her throat. She swallows. Lucifer shifts under her hands, and Natalie lets her arms fall. Lucifer snaps his wings out gently, ruffling all the feathers and then letting them fall again. He sighs, hunches his shoulders and then the wings disappear like they were never there. 

“Thank you,” he says, turning back around to face her. “I don’t have anyone else to ask.” 

“I’m sorry,” Natalie says. Tears sting in her eyes, with the wings gone, she’s suddenly bereft. “Lucifer, I’m so sorry.” 

Lucifer looks at her. “What’re you sorry for, girl? None of this is your fault.” 

“But still,” Natalie says, trying to keep her tears at bay. “I’m sorry you had to ask me, of all people–”

“What do you mean ‘of all people’?” There’s something nearly dangerous in Lucifer’s voice. 

Natalie sniffles. “Well, I mean, you didn’t seem to want me to help earlier, so I just thought–”

“Well, stop thinking it.” Lucifer stands, abruptly. He walks to her window, and leans on the sill. The moonlight hangs in his hair. “It’s hard for me to ask for help, Natalie. I’m not–” he pauses, gathers himself– “I’m not used to having someone that I can ask.” 

“You can always ask me for help, Lucifer,” Natalie says, putting as much conviction as she can into her voice. She rests her hand on his back, skin to skin. Lucifer flinches at the contact, but Natalie doesn’t withdraw her hand. “Always.” 


End file.
